Labor of Love
by Black Alnair
Summary: It does not matter if it's a lifetime or a fading memory - he will find his way back to her. Spock/Uhura romance. McCoy family/POV. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Labor of Love**

by black_alnair

**A/N**: Written for **witblogi** over at LJ for the S/U Secret Santa Ficathon 2009. It starts off angsty and stays that way for a while but if you persevere till the end of Part 2, you may find this is actually an uplifting story - as it is meant to be.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own or profit from Star Trek. All characters belong to their respective parent companies.

***

**Prologue**

Five years is both a lifetime and a fading memory. Leonard McCoy does not recognize it for what it is until he is lifting his little girl high in the air, the blue sky a too-perfect backdrop to her floating reddish-blonde curls, and she is asking, "When do I get to see you next, Daddy? When do I get to see you next?"

His eyes meet Jocelyn's. In five years of marriage, her eyes have flashed with love and anger in equal parts. But never pity. Until now.

"Whenever I can, Jobo. Whenever I can."

He holds his daughter close, knowing that it will be a lifetime before he can hold her this close again.

***

**Part 1 – World Enough**

McCoy's arms are elbow-deep in Spock's chest when the ship shakes again. "Goddamnit!" he curses as he loses his footing and fumbles with the laser scalpel. "What the hell are they doing?" His eyes flicker up for a moment and meet Christine Chapel's. He sees fear and worry. He knows she sees the same thing in his own eyes.

The moment the ship stabilizes, he returns to his delicate work. He is working fast, the adrenaline pumping through his veins so rapidly he can hear it in his ears. He needs to finish, he needs to…and then, the ship is tilting, tilting so much, so fast, he does not realize it immediately and he is still holding onto the laser scalpel when his arm plunges deep into the First Officer.

***

He is working against time, time and probability, but it's time that worries him the most. _Of course_, of all the organs that were accidentally butchered by his mishap, it's Spock's heart that has suffered the most damage. The Vulcan's life source stopped beating seven minutes ago and the longer it takes him to fix this, the less likely he will get Spock's heart to beat again. McCoy doesn't think he even _likes _the emotionally suppressed green-blooded hobgoblin and damn it, he's a doctor and of course, every loss _hurts_, but somehow, somehow he feels that things will never be the same on the _Enterprise _if he loses Spock.

"There!" he exclaims when he fixes the damage. But there is no triumph in his voice. He doesn't feel any. Spock is still dead on the biobed.

Christine is right there – she is always _right _there – with the electrodes to attach to Spock's unresponsive organ.

Okay, okay, it will be okay, McCoy thinks a bit madly as he takes a step back and nods at the technician. The first jolt does nothing. The flatline seems to mock him. They turn up the frequency. Second. Nothing. Third. Nothing.

"Turn it _up_!" he growls at the poor kid.

Christine steps in. "But, Doctor –"

"Just do it!" he says, ignoring his faithful nurse. He knows the danger but it's been at least twelve minutes by now. "Do it!"

And the ship shakes again.

***

"_Bridge to Sickbay. Bridge to Sickbay._"

It's Chekov but McCoy does not really register it's the young, vulnerable Russian whizkid. All he hears is the interruption. He hits the receiver with an angry elbow. "_WHAT_?"

"We need you on the bridge" is the timid response.

"Well, you know what I need? I need your damn pilot to fly the ship like it's not some joyride simulation because the first officer has flatlined three times already. Did you hear that? Three times. If he ever wakes up, he'll probably be as functional as plomeek."

Christine pulls his elbow away from the receiver. "Go. They need you up there. There's nothing more you can do here."

And she's right, McCoy thinks as he looks at Spock's stiff form, his grayish-green skin taut over his finely structured features. The damage to Spock's side has been repaired, McCoy wielding the autosuture with as much care as he can give in the middle of a battle in space. The Vulcan's heart is pumping now – if somewhat feebly – but the beat is there, registering on the biofunction monitor. What is not registering are any brain waves. They haven't tried the cortical stimulator yet – after what Spock's body has gone through, McCoy fears another electric shock too soon would stress out even a Vulcan's system. But he can't sit here and worry when he is needed elsewhere so after some brief instructions – even though Christine does not need them – he is on his way, the grip on his medikit so tight his knuckles are probably bone-white.

***

The bridge is a mess. Smoke is curling up into the air like a devil's claw, obstructing sight and breath. He hears the crackling of live wires and his eyes drift in that direction – Uhura's station. He looks for the lieutenant and finds her standing a good distance away. She looks okay. Except the tight draw of her mouth. He waves the tricorder over her. "You alright, darling?"

She gives him a tight smile that does not reach her eyes. "I'm fine. No damage."

The tricorder beeps. Nothing except a few scrapes and bruises. That's a relief. "Glad you got away from that in time," he says, jerking his thumb behind him towards the mess that is her communications station.

"The Commander pushed me away in time."

"Ah," McCoy murmurs, looking at the ruined communications station and then, Spock's science station. The integrity of the latter has been retained. So Spock had been hurt saving a fellow officer. Typical Vulcan.

There's a hand on his arm, reminding him where he is and what he has to do. He nods at Uhura and is about to move away when she asks, "How is he?" Her eyes are wide with anxiety. Uhura is so damn good – she cares for everyone. But McCoy knows it is more than that. Though Spock remains aloof, he is a part of them, with them from the very beginning, from the moment they failed to save his home planet and his mother, from when he nearly sacrificed himself to save theirs.

"I don't know," he sighs. He has never been good at offering comfort. With a shake of his head, he moves on.

***

To say McCoy is pissed is the understatement of the holiday season. He is so angry one eye is twitching. "What do you mean we don't know what happened? I'll tell you what happened," he declares, standing up but swaying, "We were sent on a routine mission that I'm sure Starfleet _Command_ knew was no f*cking routine mission. We got shot up. Some of our people died and then, they don't even give us an explanation. They give us the runaround instead about why we are _really _out there, risking our lives. And on top of all that, they have the audacity to send us a f*cking Christmas card. What the hell is that? A Christmas card – a happy f*cking holiday – who even celebrates Christmas anymore?"

"Admiral Murphy."

"An Irish un," Scotty observes. "Aye, isnae McCoy an Irish nam?"

McCoy glares at the engineer. "How can you make jokes?"

"A joke? Thes is _Starfleet_. Aye, thes is hoo Starfleet is, mah mukker."

"What the hell ire yah saying?" McCoy winces. His own accent always thickens in anger. He takes a deep breath but goddamit, he is pissed.

"Look, Bones, _I know_," Kirk says as he places a hand on McCoy's shoulder. McCoy immediately feels remorse. This is probably hardest for Kirk. Despite his devil-may-care attitude, McCoy knows that Kirk takes his responsibilities seriously. "I wish I could offer you more, I wish I could offer those poor Ensigns and their families more, but I've already talked to Pike – even _he _has no further information to offer. It's above him."

Kirk sighs and idly kicks one of the mounted chairs in the ready room. "At least Spock's alright."

McCoy freezes as Kirk goes on.

"How long do you think he'll be in Sickbay? You know how grouchy he gets," Kirk finishes with a smirk.

"When did I ever say he's alright?" McCoy asks slowly, cautiously.

"What do you mean? You told me you had him stabilized."

McCoy usually enjoys silence. He likes sitting all alone in his office with no windows and hearing nothing beyond the steady hum of his medical equipment, but this silence, here, now, is nothing like the silence he savors – it feels like all sound has been sucked from the room and his ears almost ring with it. "I did say that."

"So, what's wrong?"

"C'mon, Jim, it doesn't take a doctor to get this." He doesn't really want to say it aloud. He's usually the kind of guy that has too much to say but he doesn't want to say it aloud, not here, not now, not ever.

"Bones, for the love of—"

"Even in the twenty-third century, there is only so much we can do for the brain."

"The brain?"

"Spock's heart stopped beating for over twelve minutes."

"And how does his –" Kirk begins. But McCoy is right – Kirk didn't need to be a doctor to know that oxygen deprivation results in irreparable brain damage.

"What sort of damage has he suffered?" Sulu asks in the quiet that follows.

"We don't know. We can't know, until he wakes up, _if _he wakes up at all."

"But twelve minutes – that tells us something, doesn't it?" The pilot persists.

McCoy's throat tightens. Yeah, twelve minutes tells you something alright. But McCoy doesn't say anything and it's Chekov that finally speaks. "Brain death usually occurs between four to six minutes. Though…" Chekov looks over at McCoy with his wide puppy eyes. "Ambient temperature plays a non-insignificant role in metabolism and oxygen demand. The temperature of de ship is low – perhaps even uncomfortably so – for Commander Spock, _da_? He may have had a chance to survive a longer den average period of anoxia."

McCoy shakes his head. There is no use in giving hope where there is no hope to be found. Still, he looks at his PADD for updates from Christine before he says anything. She has tried the stimulator. Twice. But it is, indeed, a futile hope. "Since stabilization, we have been monitoring his brain waves. There are none."

He sets the PADD down, feeling weary, for himself, for the crew, but mostly, for his Vulcan patient who has already lost so much. There's not world enough for such tragedy.

***


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: Again, I do not own or profit from Star Trek.

***

**Part 2 – A Way Back**

It is not quite hope that keeps Spock's body alive though his brain is dead. It is denial, McCoy thinks, as he sits at his desk and records his latest readings on the First Officer instead of writing to his daughter. It has been three weeks since Spock has entered into a complete comatose state and there is still no indication that his brain is functioning. In fact, analysis of the damage is pretty damn bleak. McCoy has never seen damage like this – he almost thinks it would be better if the pointy-eared bastard never wakes up. Actually, he _does _think this. But the unspoken agreement amongst the bridge crew is to keep Spock alive, no matter what, no matter the consequences on Spock himself.

McCoy has even written a meticulous report of his findings and sent it to New Vulcan with potential treatment plans so wild it would make Jim Kirk proud. He has indicated in an attached memo that he is seeking insight on Vulcan physiology but he knows, as the Vulcans will know, he is seeking a miracle. With the _Enterprise_ so deep in space, it will take over two months for the CMO's message to reach its destination. In that time, Spock's body will continue to atrophy and deteriorate. McCoy has thought of placing the Vulcan in a stasis chamber but what they need is for Spock to wake up and he can't wake up when he is in stasis. Despite medical and technological advances, there is simply no replacement for the brain.

McCoy sighs before submitting the report to the archive. Now, he has no excuse for not writing Joanna's Christmas card. Though he has implied otherwise plenty of times, the McCoys _used _tocelebrate Christmas. They dressed up a tree and put red and green ribbons in Jo's hair. They ate lopsided fruitcake and sweet potato soufflé, sat around a fireplace and listened to their little girl sing carols off-key. But he is not there for any of that anymore – just like he does not celebrate Christmas anymore. He does send electronic cards and gifts on the appropriate occasion but he does not know what to say when he is so far away. Truth be told, he doesn't think he ever knows what to say, but somehow it comes out alright with his little girl in his arms.

McCoy looks out his open office door. He has a direct view of Spock in his biobed, arms stiff by his sides, his chest barely moving. He idly wonders how Spock celebrated the holidays. They had actually talked about it in passing prior to his injury. McCoy had been grumbling under his breath about the approaching yuletide and of course, Spock's damn Vulcan ears picked it up. Spock actually told him that he sounded like Ebenezer Scrooge. "And what do _you _know about Scrooge and Christmas?" He had expected Spock to give him a long-winded explanation about how it was logical for him to study illogical human activities – like a practically atheist commercialized holiday such as Christmas – but the Vulcan had simply said, "It was my mother's favorite holiday." The turbolift doors opened then and Spock stepped off without saying another word. It was the only time McCoy had ever heard Spock mention his mother.

Now Spock will meet a senseless death, like his mother. And that's all McCoy can think about as he makes another futile attempt to write to his daughter. Jo has been asking for details about what space is like, what his work is like, how the people are. What can he really tell her? That adventure in space is not all that it is cracked up to be, that people die or are hurt for no good reason, that even in a ship that houses over four hundred crewmembers, he feels like he is in some sardine can that may implode any second and he will never ever get a chance to make it up to her. No, he can't tell her any of that. He thinks of just sending her warm greetings but that sounds so empty.

McCoy leans back in his chair and sighs. There's a motion in the other room but McCoy does not look. Spock gets a constant stream of visitors. Even three weeks later, it seems as if the entire ship is continuing to visit the First Officer. Some just pass in and out, but others stay and talk to him.

As CMO, McCoy is privy to a wealth of confidential information but some of the things he hears spoken at Spock's bedside startle him. He's _not _eavesdropping, of course – his door _is _opened after all – but he suspects (or knows) that while his seated position offers him a full view of Spock and his countless visitors, the seat beside Spock does not afford a similar view of him in his office. The first time it happened, he thought of closing his door but felt that it would embarrass Christine too much after she confessed she had feelings for the Vulcan. That, and he was busy trying to wrap his head around this information. While Christine was the first confessor, she wasn't the last. Must be the damned ears, McCoy had concluded after running this around in his head for over a week.

But people talked about more than crushes. In fact, most people didn't come to talk about how sexy his eyebrows were (though to McCoy's increased bafflement, they _did_) – they mostly came in to thank Spock. And it wasn't the sort of "thanks for holding the door open that one time" sort of thanks – it was "thanks for that time back on Planet Charlie where you saved my ass" or "thanks for the time you helped me re-circuit the replicator so it would make my favorite dish from my home planet."

It is through these stories that McCoy has come to think better of Spock. It is not that he thought _badly _of Spock exactly, but prior to all this, his opinion of the Vulcan was simply not that high. He thought of Spock as a dedicated officer, talented but too stiff and too rule-abiding. Even when the Vulcan had lost his temper, he was the one who forfeited his position as acting captain. McCoy knew, of course, that Spock _felt _emotions of some kind but he also thought that Spock's dedication to logic and his arrogance about it would more often than not result in a cold and distant treatment of the issues at hand and of his peers.

This is apparently untrue. According to what everyone is saying, Spock is generous, patient and invested. It is a sort of compassion borne of a desire for excellence and growth amongst all that no matter how logical Spock's actions may seem, there's no denying the humanistic element that motivates him.

Knowing Spock better has its downside though – well, at least it does now that he's a practical vegetable on the biobed. It hurts to know that Spock is more essential to this crew than McCoy originally thought, that he is well-liked and accomplished, that he is deserving of people's gratitude and affection when there's not a damn thing he can do to fix Spock. But McCoy can't help being drawn to these stories about Spock. Though it may feel like a stab in his own gut to hear them, it hurts more to think of the time when he'll stop hearing them.

When McCoy finally looks up, he sees a familiar face. He still doesn't know the name of the pretty blonde who visited Spock early on and continues to do so periodically. He knows she is a junior science officer. She is rarely on the Alpha shift, but he has seen her arrive for the Beta shift on a number of occasions. Of course, now, she is often staffed on the Alpha Shift. Before that though, she would confer with Spock for a while before he gave up his position to her. It seems that she still wants to confer with him, about instrument readings, adjustments to the sensors and so such. But she recognizes he cannot give her that sort of advice.

"But I want to thank you for providing me with the tools that I need to continue on…while you are resting. I noticed that my readings seemed to deviate from what I expected them to be so I re-calibrated the subspace scanner. Of course, I set up the controls just as you taught me and I was able to isolate and determine that there was in fact a deviation and that it was the scanner that caused it."

"You know, everyone was surprised that you selected me for this position. I was even surprised. I mean, I didn't have the necessary background, and this was the _Enterprise _after all. But I remembered you told me that I was ready and eager to learn and that _that _would make all the difference. I still think sometimes it would have been easier for you if you'd selected someone with more expertise but I'm glad to be here and I hope to learn more from you, Commander."

Learning about the softer and perhaps, illogical side of Spock startles him. But it is the little details that really throw McCoy off and break down his image of Spock.

"Don't worry, Spock, I've been taking good care of your cactus. Spike is in good hands," Sulu says as he leans back in the chair. "Those winter roses are looking good too. I was thinking of maintaining the temperature longer than usual, so they'll still be in bloom when you wake up. I was also thinking maybe we could create some hybrids. I know your favorite color is red but I thought we could mix things up a little."

"Ya know, laddie, isnae the same without you in Engineering. I wiped the floor with Chekov in that simulator exercise we've been workin' un. Ye best come back soon or I be sae good youra light saber will be in haulf a' your feet afore ya can swingun." Scotty has had his feet up on the side of Spock's bed as he ate a sandwich but he lowers it so he can lean close and say quietly (for a Scotsman), "Nix time, I will letta ya be Darth Vader."

"You know what the definition of a club is, Mr. Spock? It's an association of _persons _for some common object usually _jointly_ supported and meeting periodically. Basically, Book Club is not Book Club without you. Because it leaves only one of us – _me _– without any joint support and no periodic meetings. I just finished the next book on our list. Who the hell am I supposed to discuss _The Little Princess _with? Bones? Can you imagine me talking to him about narrative structure?"

"It looks like we will be making a supply stop at Jenison. The planet has miles and miles of uncharted deserts. I think it's a perfect opportunity for a rematch," says a fierce-looking female officer. Her overall demeanor and red shirt seem to indicate she's in Security. "Of course, it won't be the same because we don't have our personal hoverbikes but we can rent a decent pair, I'm sure. And then we can soup those babies up and take them for a real ride."

A very mixed group of junior officers stop by together once in a while too. They once left a card so McCoy knows they call themselves the Tea and Cat Appreciation Society. He hasn't heard them talk about cats yet but they sure talk a lot about tea. "Liu tried to play with the replicator so we could have African Red Bush tea but we ended up with something that was definitely _not _African Red Bush tea. When it comes to manipulating Starfleet property, Commander, you're _the man._"

"You vere right, Commander, _How to Pick Vp Chicks in Space_, is in fekt an informative book despite its less den inspiring title. But you know, dat chapter dat says girls like cards vith drawings of hearts? I dona think it's an anatomically correct human heart as you suggested. Not dat I disagree dat it iz a good vay for a girl to ewalue a mate's talents and all, but I did some research and humans tend to use symbolic hearts. I thought since you vere oddervise occupied, I shold pass on my findings to you."

But of Spock's many visitors, Lieutenant Uhura is his most frequent. She also stays the longest, but she doesn't say anything. She just sits at Spock's bedside, silent for hours. It not only baffles McCoy – who is familiar with a much more energetic and engaging communications officer – but it concerns him as well. Her dramatically different behavior has been noticeable on the bridge and the mess hall – the few times he has even seen her there. McCoy is no psychologist but he strongly suspects she has survivor's guilt. He is no good at this, he knows, but as Spock continues to deteriorate and she along with him, he knows he must do something.

***

Sarek has sent him a message that perhaps he should have been expecting but didn't. The Vulcan wants to rendezvous with the _Enterprise_ in order to take his son's body to the new colony. Of course, it is within the Ambassador's right. But McCoy finds he doesn't want to let Spock go yet, that he wants to try something else, _anything_. But it has been over four months now and the Vulcan scientists have confirmed that there is nothing that can be done for Spock. McCoy wants to throw his PADD across the room but instead, he replies to Sarek's message. They will be expecting him then.

When he steps outside his office, McCoy sees Spock has a visitor. It is Uhura again. She looks as tired as Spock. Dark circles are now ringing her once bright eyes. He had meant to speak to her.

"Darling, you look like death warmed over."

"You're such a charmer," Uhura deadpans.

McCoy pulls up a chair next to Uhura and takes her hand. She does not look at him. "Look, sweetie, I understand how you feel."

She does not respond but it doesn't look like she's buying it. McCoy forges on anyway. "I know you feel like it should have been you, not him, but we're all officers and we do what we must do in the line of duty. Spock would've sacrificed himself for anyone."

McCoy thinks it's not half-bad. He _is _better when he can deal with someone in person. But then, his momentary feeling of pride deflates as Uhura's face crumples – actually, _crumples._

"I know that; of course, I know that, but I _miss _him."

McCoy pulls her close, a bit surprised by Uhura's declaration. Sure, he has learned Spock is better connected to the crew that he initially realized, but Spock and Uhura only seemed to interact with each other distantly. He remembers them arguing once as they stepped off the turbolift. He had found it odd but didn't think anything of it. He assumed it was a professional difference. Uhura was as passionate as Spock was stubborn. It was only natural for a clash now and again. But now, she's crying all over his uniform, her sobs so great her entire body trembles. He wants to let her cry until she's too tired to do anything but sleep it off. However, he realizes that she needs to let go.

With only some hesitancy, McCoy pulls back from Uhura and holds her at half-arm's length. "Honey, you can't keep doing this to yourself. You have to let go. He's gone."

But Uhura isn't even letting him finish. She is shaking her head, her long ponytail swinging back and forth. "No, no, no, no, no. He's still here."

"No. He's not here." McCoy insists, pointing at Spock's head. "_He _is not here. And his body is not going to be here soon too. Sarek is coming for his son's body. He will be the first one to be buried in New Vulcan."

Uhura freezes in McCoy's arms – it is for a moment but it feels like an eternity, an eternity of loss, an eternity of stillness, an eternity of pain. And before he can hold onto her, Uhura is on her feet and she's turning towards Spock. She places one hand on each side of Spock's sunken cheeks and she is speaking to him, finally speaking to him. "Spock, you have to, you have to…please, _please_, find your way back to me."

***

McCoy lets her stay the night. He pulls the privacy curtain around the bed and restricts visitors. She sleeps curled up against the Vulcan with her hand on his side, over his heart, as though she will never let go. And, he supposes, that wherever Spock has gone, wherever he will go, she never will.

***

Spock's return to consciousness is not quite a holovid miracle. He does not wake up the night Uhura stays with him or the moment Sarek arrives. His eyes half-open one day five months later and close again. Christine is not there to see it but notices a reading that indicates as much. She does not tell anyone until she is sure. She sits beside him through her entire shift and then, past it. Three hours later, he opens his eyes again for half a second and she calls McCoy who races down from the Bridge. It is not a holovid miracle, a storybook miracle or even a damn Christmas miracle, but to McCoy, it feels like his prayers have been answered. He imagines Uhura feels the same.

***


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to everyone who took the time to review. I really appreciated it! :) **Also, special thanks to witblogi for the great prompt! And an extra big thanks to my betas, spocklikescats and slwmtndaylite, for helping me get this polished off in record time!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own or profit from Star Trek or its affiliates.

***

**Part 3 – Labor of Love**

McCoy has seen the strength of her feelings so he finds her restraint admirable – astounding, even. Spock is disorientated, barely able to speak and does not recognize any of them. He is also having trouble functioning in Standard and keeps reverting to Vulcan. Hence, the only other member of the crew who can speak Vulcan is sitting at Spock's bedside, but the man is barely looking at her. McCoy had prepared her for this possibility – but telling and experiencing are never the same. This is the love of her life and while he is not dead, he is effectively beyond her reach.

Though it is not as bad as McCoy feared, it is bad enough. The brain damage has manifested itself in many ways, not all of it entirely apparent when the Vulcan first woke up. Spock's gross motor movements seemed off and after some testing, they realized that he could barely move his legs. There was panic in the Vulcan's eyes before McCoy swooped in and explained this was natural when one had just woken from a coma. Spock blinked at him with wide eyes, looking wild for a Vulcan, but than Uhura leaned forward and explained it in his native tongue. He seemed to calm a bit but Uhura didn't looked mollified – she had thrown McCoy a distrustful look as though she was saying, _I know_, _I know_ you made that statement with more confidence than you should have. And he had – doctors know better than to give false hope but he is also worried that stressing Spock out too much could result in a regression.

And they can deal with the physical later. It isn't going to be some stroll along the Georgia shore – but this is McCoy's area of expertise. He will get Spock walking again. He will get Spock's hands to coordinate correctly and fix whatever physical ailments he is suffering from as a result of his severe electrocution and coma. That is not what really worries him. It is his mind.

Spock knows what Starfleet is but does not know his rank. It confuses and frustrates him – McCoy can see it in his human eyes. Also, he does not understand how he can be on the _Enterprise_ already. He thinks it's still being built in the shipyard in Iowa. And _that _response lets McCoy know that he does not remember Vulcan or what happened to his mother. Some doctors don't think amnesia is a big deal. But McCoy thinks differently. Though he has only studied psychology tangentially, he believes that people _are _their memories, that what they remember makes up who they are, and what they forget is thus a part of themselves that they have forever lost.

And for Spock, it's more than just amnesia. Spock's brain has actually been _damaged_. And it is still too early to tell if there's more than memory loss – if there will be behavioral changes and damage to his mental prowess.

Spock tires quickly, though he tries to remain awake and alert. McCoy makes him lie back down, waving a hypo threateningly in his face. The moment Spock's head settles against his pillow, he is out. But unlike the last few months, his closed eyelids are fluttering lightly and the monitor above him is measuring the even frequency of his functioning mind. Uhura has not moved from her position beside him, but her hands are no longer clasped tightly in her lap as they were moments before. Instead, they are on the biobed, her fingers stretched out so they are not quite touching the sleeve of Spock's shirt but are trembling close by.

"Well…" McCoy begins, not quite sure what to say.

"The last time we talked we fought," she whispers.

"Oh darlin', he doesn't even remember that."

It is the wrong thing to say. Uhura doesn't cry but she closes her eyes slowly, as though the weight of that truth is too much to see. G-d, she's a tough kid, McCoy thinks, as he pulls up a chair and sits beside her.

It is silent for a long while – perhaps, no that long, but the quiet now brings him discomfort. He begins fumbling for something to say, some sort of meaningful condolence, or any condolence really. He settles on asking her about their fight. "What was it about?"

Uhura sniffles and her fingers dig into the sheet right next to Spock's hand. "Back in the Academy, we were both concerned about how our personal relationship would reflect on us professionally. We kept it secret. When we were both commissioned for the _Enterprise_ –"

"Let me guess," McCoy snorts. "He wanted to keep it a secret still."

Uhura lets out a mirthless laugh. "No, _I _wanted to keep it secret."

McCoy can't stop a wayward eyebrow from rising up.

Uhura leans away from him with a slight frown. "I worked hard to get where I am today. I don't want people thinking I didn't earn my position."

"How can anyone think that?" McCoy says loudly, standing up in protest. "How can _you_ think that? You know like, what? – a hundred languages?"

"Eighty-seven," she corrects.

"Oh, only eighty-seven," McCoy says with a roll of his eyes.

"Look, it's different for a woman. It has _always _been. So, early on in our relationship, I told Spock I didn't want any appearances of favoritism. He followed this _to the letter_ – he even went too far sometimes – and then, just because we weren't at the Academy anymore, he thought we could suddenly change the rules. He's still my superior officer, he's still…"

Uhura is losing heart in her own argument.

"Seems almost petty now, doesn't it?" she says, slumping in her seat.

McCoy reaches out and gently squeezes Uhura's upper arm. "Why don't you stay the night? He might wake up sometime and…he's going to need you."

Without waiting for a response, McCoy gets up and pulls the privacy curtain around the bed. The last thing he sees is Uhura looking at Spock as though she is the one who really needs him.

***

McCoy is rereading messages from Joanna. They alternatively lift his spirits and bring them spiraling down. He has just spent the last three hours debating with a Vulcan and _that _has never gone in his favor. First of all, he learns from the stoic Ambassador that Spock _possibly _entered into a healing trance. Apparently, it's a typical Vulcan thing – but the f*cking Vulcan scientists thought the damage to Spock's brain was so extensive, this possibility was unlikely and they didn't think it was worth mentioning to him, the doctor actually taking care of Spock. Sarek didn't even blink when he gave this less-than-satisfying explanation. He only insisted on taking his son back – despite the fact _his people_ had given up on Spock because they didn't dare to hope, didn't dare to let their emotions guide them, just allowed statistical probability be their measuring stick for life or death. McCoy's throat is scratchy from yelling up a storm and damn it, he wishes he could yell some more but after hitting up against a brick wall, in the form of a Vulcan, for so long, he has all but given up on convincing Sarek to allow Spock to remain on the _Enterprise_. But then, the Ambassador walks in with Lieutenant Uhura.

McCoy looks at Uhura first. She looks neither happy nor disappointed. He then looks at Sarek, expecting him to look entirely passive but a wave of conflict flickers across the Vulcan's face at the moment. McCoy is speechless. In fact, no one seems to be talking.

"It seems that the logical choice is not the easiest," Sarek finally says. After a moment, he adds, "Do you have any children, Dr. McCoy?"

McCoy blinks in surprise. He didn't expect the Ambassador to engage in small talk.

"Uh, yes, I do. A daughter."

"Is she here with you?"

"No, no, she's on Earth with her mother." Sarek's line of questioning baffles him, but he finds himself answering without any resistance. He has given the Ambassador a lot of grief and he would do anything not to give him more.

"Do you ever see her?"

"Not since I've left," McCoy quietly admits. Saying it out loud makes his absence in Joanna's life feel more pronounced than he usually cares to consider. On most days, he has his duties and he can live day-by-day and forget the great expanse of space and time that separates him from his little girl. "Well, at least, not in person," McCoy continues. "There's subspace communication, of course." _This_ they all know is just an excuse.

"I have found that interacting with my child in person is more…satisfying than interacting with him by subspace communication. This is particular true when my child is hurt. But my wants are secondary to the needs of my child. My child, in his current state, needs to be amongst people who care for him and do not judge him for his differences. My child needs to be in a familiar place, not a facsimile of the home where he grew up on and that was destroyed along with his mother. My child then should stay with the caregivers who did not give up on him, though the possibilities of his recovery were low. My child, then, should stay on the _Enterprise_ for his convalescence as you have suggested."

McCoy looks at Uhura who nods at him. He has no clue what she said to the Ambassador, but it doesn't matter – it worked.

In any case, it has always been McCoy's opinion that it doesn't matter what f*cking species you are, your child is your child. And every damn decision is hard but you make the best decision you can _for them. _Now, he knows this is true.

***

It is not easy to watch Spock struggle. The moment he manages to get into a standing position, he collapses onto his hands and knees. He has actually made amazing progress but for someone like Spock, McCoy imagines anything but a day convalescence is two days too long. He is up and trying again. McCoy has tried to get him to use the anti-gravity stimulator but Spock had insisted that this was a faster method towards full recovery. McCoy had scowled at him but he is secretly pleased – Spock had always been an insufferable patient, always impatient to return to his duty back on the Bridge. This means that Spock is still Spock.

McCoy sighs when Spock collapses on the mat again. This time he does not get up immediately. Instead, he lies on his stomach, his sweaty forehead against the floor, breathing harshly. "Okay, that's enough for today," McCoy says.

But Uhura shakes her head at him. "No, let him try again."

"He's had a full day. He can try tomorrow."

"Just once more," she almost shouts. She turns her back to McCoy and bends down over Spock, speaking in a low tone. Her hand is on the back of his neck. Spock nods and pushes himself up with the palms of his hands. He struggles into a standing position and Uhura is right at his side in case he falls. He takes two steps.

***

Spock is on his feet again and this is good but it is apparent that a good portion of his memory is completely shot. Scotty has designed some sort of learning program for Spock and the Vulcan walks circles around the ship as he answers questions in rapid-fire Vulcan. These days, Spock still slips into Vulcan now and again, but Uhura no longer has to serve as a translator. She hasn't left his side though and Spock hasn't made any complaints but McCoy is concerned about the state of their relationship.

When he sees Uhura watching Spock from the end of a hallway as the Vulcan wanders about with his learning program, McCoy sidles up to her. She still looks tired but she is definitely less worn than she has been in previous months.

"How are you holding up, dollface?"

"You don't have to worry about me," she says, her eyes never leaving Spock.

"Look, I know you are a tough broad but this has to be hard on you. For one thing, you're working full time on the bridge _and_ you're helping out Spock."

"Actually, I asked Kirk for a lighter shift."

"You did?"

"Yes. You're always hovering over Spock so you don't realize I'm not on the Bridge as much, nor that I'm actually _in Sickbay_," she accuses lightly.

McCoy humphs at her. This is true – sometimes he is so focused, everything else falls to the wayside. He did not expect that of Uhura though. Even when Spock had been in a coma, she did full shifts. But he supposes, now Spock needs her more than ever.

They continue to stand together and silently observe Spock. There's something almost _enthusiastic_ about the way he just takes in information. McCoy wasn't as familiar with Spock as others obviously were, but even he notices some differences about the First Officer – there's a certain nativity in his understanding and speech now, some rigidity in his movements, and overall a little more uncertainty about himself. Spock has been told a great many things, like that he is friends with most of the crew, but he doesn't recall the experiences, one in particular, that has bond him to them. The experiences that once defined him are now lost to him and he can't be who he used to be through mere secondhand accounts. With regret, McCoy has to acknowledge that the Spock they used to know is also lost to them.

"It is not very hard anymore," Uhura starts saying after some time. McCoy looks at her with tired skepticism. But Uhura is shaking her head, insistent. "The hardest part was not knowing and then, watching him struggle. But he has physically recovered and there is no indication of mental defects or behavior alterations. No serious ones, in any case. There's only memory loss."

McCoy frowns at this. Uhura is a smart gal so he doesn't think he needs to tell her that it's not simply memory loss, that she can't just fill in the gaps for him and get him back to where he used to be. It's probably denial, he thinks, and he of course means to go about it more elegantly but he ends up blurting out, "But he doesn't remember you. Don't you care?"

"Of course I care," she says shortly.

When she does not elaborate, McCoy exclaims, "Well?"

Spock looks up at them from where he is down the hall. No doubt he heard McCoy. Uhura gives him a small wave and he merely looks at them for a moment longer before looking back down at his PADD and resuming his exercise.

She gives a small sigh. "He used to look at me a certain way and it is hard looking at him and not seeing that in his eyes anymore. It is hard going to bed knowing he will not be thinking of me the same way I think of him. It is hard knowing that he doesn't remember all the times we spent together, the late night conversations we had, even the fights we had. I want him to remember everything. But I don't need him to. He is still Spock. And I'm still me. And we're going to fall in love again."

And there's not even a tremble of doubt in her voice. He will find his way back to her.

***

McCoy doesn't know when he has become such a busybody but dare he say it – he has become _fascinated_ with watching Spock and Uhura's relationship blossom. Uhura has told him that she doesn't want to impose upon _this_ Spock so she has decided not to tell him about their previous relationship. "Telling and experiencing aren't the same, right, Dr. McCoy?" she smiled a bit wanly. "One day, I'll tell him about our trip to Kenya, I'll tell him about our waltzing lessons, about the Academy, about _us_, but we need to rewrite this from the beginning first."

He has no idea how they were like prior to Spock's injury but he imagines it happened the same way it is happening now – slowly, quietly but intensely. Simple courtesies, shared interests, long discussions. Foreheads closer than necessary, knees bumping, quiet brushes of their fingers. Spock has never been extremely open and apparently, Uhura isn't either, so it requires some careful observation and some chance encounters. And maybe, sometimes hiding inside a Jeffries Tube or two.

"Hey, move over," Christine hisses.

"What are you doing here?"

"Just monitoring the First Officer's progress," she replies smartly.

"But, uh, I…don't you, aren't you in love with Spock?"

Christine brushes her blonde hair out of her eyes. "I'm _attracted_ to him, of course – what person with a pulse isn't? And yes, I also care about him, but not the way Uhura does." She points to the pair around the corner of the Jefferies Tube entrance. "What she's doing – _that_," she sighs, "is a labor of love."

And together they watch as Uhura teaches a clumsy Spock how to waltz. Ever since the Vulcan has recovered physically, his movements have been as elegant as before. But now he's stepping all over her toes and she grimaces now and again but her face glows with happiness and her laughter echoes throughout the hall. Spock looks a little baffled by all of this but he is holding her hand and he looks entirely…fascinated. He fumbles again but Uhura just smiles and they pick up from the beginning, dancing to a song only in their minds.

Indeed, McCoy thinks it is all unfolding like a sweet Georgia song, and he almost remembers when he was young and in love and everything was sweet even when it wasn't. He looks over at Christine and she smiles at him. They climb out of the other end of the Jeffries Tube together.

***

McCoy feels everything is almost back to normal. But they didn't tell Spock about Vulcan and that was a mistake. Because Spock is Spock and he's been reading reports and of course, something is said in one of them that doesn't _quite_ make sense and he searches the database for the connecting threads. And then he learns from a dated Starfleet report that his mother is dead, that his planet is gone, and that those around him have by omission been lying to him.

He sits in his quarters for hours and does not admit anyone. Uhura is frantic, Sarek looks somewhat puzzled by such illogical behavior, and Kirk is punching the override codes but McCoy won't let anyone in.

Spock looks up when McCoy walks into his bedroom area. He looks like he has been asleep, his eyes a bit bleary and his hair sticking up in odd directions.

"You cannot protect me forever."

"I know."

***

He permits Spock to return to the Bridge but he keeps him on light duty. Everyone seems to be walking on eggshells though McCoy is surprised that he even notices since he thinks he is the most nervous one of all. He tries not to hover too much, but he wants to know if Spock is performing adequately, if he is becoming tired, if everything is the same. He doesn't really know Spock enough to really _know _but he's trying.

When Spock has been on the Bridge for exactly four hours, McCoy stands and Spock looks in his direction and nods. McCoy is taking him back to Sickbay to run a few tests before releasing him to his quarters.

In the turbolift, Spock reaches out and pushes the emergency button.

"Spock?"

"It is illogical for you to feel guilty."

"I…"

"I reviewed the report, Dr. McCoy." He raises his eyebrows as though he is curious that McCoy thought he wouldn't have read it and brought the matter up. "You were thrown off balance by the extreme tilt of the ship – a result of the battle in which we were engaged. This was something beyond your control. Even if I had suffered from a more serious injury or died, it would not have been your fault."

McCoy does not know what to say. The feeling of guilt is so inherent in his very being he did not realize he had been burdened by this.

"My life is not the same. However, I believe I have you to thank for having this life."

Spock turns and releases the emergency button as though he has not just released McCoy.

"Of course, life is fragile. I know you recognize this and have done everything in your power to help me regain my life. I sincerely hope that you extend the same care you did for me to all aspects of your life. In particular, to all persons in your life whom you love." He pauses and McCoy thinks this is it, but right before the door slides open, Spock adds, "Do not regret what your last actions and words are to your daughter."

McCoy doesn't know how Spock even knows about his daughter but he doesn't question it. He just nods and follows Spock as the Vulcan leads the way to Sickbay.

***

**Epilogue**

It is a f*cking Christmas baby and McCoy couldn't be any happier. Except perhaps if it wasn't oh-three-hundred in the morning. It seems like most babies arrive at inconvenient hours.

"Push, darlin'."

"I'm f*cking pushing!" Uhura screams. McCoy raises an eyebrow. For a xenolinguist knowledgeable in 87 languages, she's not very eloquent at the moment but Uhura gives him a pointed look that says – _you try giving birth some time. _

Spock distracts Uhura by makes soothing sounds as he holds her hands. The white lights above the biobed reflect off their wedding rings and McCoy is almost mesmerized for a moment about the miracles of the past and now, of the present.

Christine elbows McCoy sharply in the side and he turns to level a stare at her. She lifts an unimpressed eyebrow before saying to Uhura, "C'mon, love, just one more push!"

Uhura gives all she's got. She always does. And then the baby is out and it is crying and it fills the room with its wails. Christine steps forward, taking the baby in her arms to clean it and wrap it in a blanket. Spock is still holding onto Uhura's hands but he is craning his neck over her to see his child.

"What is it?" the Vulcan finally blurts.

Uhura laughs and kisses Spock's hands.

"It's a girl!" Christine says, bringing her over to her parents. "What are you going to name her?"

"We have not yet decided."

"But we did decide on something," Uhura says as she takes the baby into her arms. Her face looks a bit worn from the long labor, but her eyes are bright and mischievous.

"Well, don't keep me in suspense," McCoy mutters when it seems like both of them have been absorbed by the baby.

"We were hoping you would agree to be her godfather," Spock says, looking McCoy in the eye. McCoy feels like the ship has tilted on its side but in an entirely different way than in the past.

The crackle of the intercom prevents McCoy from responding and he barks out a gruff, "What?"

"Can we come in? Can we come in? Can we come in?" It's Kirk, standing outside the private room set aside for the birthing. Of course, he's the one acting like an infant. And then, another voice – female and young. "Daddy, daddy, can we come in? Can we?" McCoy should be concerned that his Jobo is spending even two minutes in Kirk's company, but for now, everything seems right in the world.

Looking at Spock, he says in the intercom, "Affirmative."

_Fin_


End file.
